


Rest in the Reeds

by babasnockings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Boys In Love, First Love, First Time, M/M, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babasnockings/pseuds/babasnockings
Summary: In regency era England, chaos grasps at the unlucky Stark family from across the sea. Though for Bran Stark, life is just as restless in his childhood home, Winterfell manor. You see, he is in love with his companion, Jojen Reed. Young love finds it's way into any situation, despite rules and predisposition, and as he soon discovers, it is unstoppable. In the woods of Winterfell, what are rules to stop anything from happening?
Relationships: Jojen Reed/Bran Stark
Kudos: 10





	Rest in the Reeds

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so there might be some mentions of r/pe and violence but nothing past the actual words themselves. No joking I wrote this during my history classes last term, forgot about it, and now I'm posting :) The serotonin finishing a fic provides !! I've made this a one-shot since I rarely finish multi-chapter fics, but if it does well i might revisit this world. Who's to say? Enjoy reading <3

Bran lay on his back, running his hands through the grass and moss that surrounded him. The wind gently blew over his closed eyelids, smoothing the skin. There was nothing he loved more than this, than laying in the wilderness, with the comfort of flowers embrace to soothe his mind. He remembered when he was a child, he would run through the fields of dandelions. It was worth his mother’s punishment just to see that moment when the sun had begun to hide behind the earth, and the flowers would be illuminated with the most beautiful of colours, glowing all around him. The view always left him breathless, struck with wonder. 

Of course, nothing was quite the same anymore. Ever since he fell, and he lost his control of his legs, he had struggled to enjoy nature in the same way. No one had ever had the time to help him outside, nor the patience to stay with him. The year after the fall, Bran had felt more alone, more trapped then he had ever imagined he could feel. When he could no longer climb the great oaks, he was left only to watch the weeping willows weep with bitter despondency. The softness of childhood abandoned him to the despair of the adult world. That is of, naturally, until the reed boy came. 

As if by manifestation of some kind, Bran was awoken from his slumber by the soft voice of the for mentioned Reed boy. Jojen. He opened his eyes, and he saw above him curly strawberry blond hair, sun-brown freckles, and those hazel-green eyes that so often occupied his mind. “Master Bran, I am sorry to wake you, but we really must be getting back by now”. Bran propped himself up on his elbows, something he could do, and unconvincingly stifled a yawn. “It’s alright, I wasn’t asleep. Just thinking”. Jojen smiled.  
“Of course Master Bran.” With that, he helped Bran into his wheelchair, and began guiding him back the ebony manor in the distance. Every brush of warm skin against his own made him shiver, and release a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He had told Jojen countless times to stop calling him ‘master’ but of course the blonde boy hadn’t. Although, it should be worth mentioning, that when he did say it, it wasn’t entirely serious. 

Bran knew that these feeling should fill him with shame, and I’m sure many of you readers would expect that of him, considering his circumstances, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Or, perhaps, to tell the truth, he did have some shame, though not for the most predictable reasons. He felt shame not because the Reed boy was just that, a boy, or because he was of a lower status than Bran. No, he felt shame because he felt as if he was taking advantage of Jojen. This was Jojen’s work, his job, to care for Bran, surely not because of his own affection. 

The clouds of thought that fogged his mind were jolted around, dissolving in his mind, as the wheels beneath Bran met the stone step of the back door. As the two boys entered the door, they were greeted with the welcoming aroma of buttery potatoes, fresh, minty fish and warm French bread. “Oh god, how I love coming through this door of an evening” Bran exclaimed.

Jojen laughed “I know you do, Bran” He was apparently so distracted by the mouth-watering food in the next room that he forgot about their joke, which made Bran smile.  
The dinner was as good as it was every other night, the promises the scents had made were carried out. Idle chat about the economy, or town gossip, was naturally involved, but unlike other families, he war with France was not ignored entirely. The stark family had never shied away from controversial topics at the dinner table, and it was on everyone’s mind since Jon had joined the army. 

Bran had never taken on that opinion that others had about the war, like his brothers, or the Frey boys. Other boys laughed and jested how they wished they could go to war, to slaughter the French with a sick sort of satisfaction. When they spoke he would always remain silent. This view he found to be very foolish, and certainly displaying their nativity. The thought of war scared Bran, not for any practical reason, since a crippled boy would not be allowed to fight. It was the concept that terrified him. Angry, violent men, given bayonets and muskets, allowed to roam in villages, stealing, beating and raping not only their rivals but innocents. How could such disgusting creatures be good men? Where was the said glory of war? War was not to end tyranny, but an opportunity for villains to grasp as much of it as they could under the guise of patriotism. 

On this topic, Rickon spoke “It’s so unfair mama! I want to go fight the French”  
Catelyn looked amused, but said very seriously in response “No you don’t Rickon. There’s no use for little boys in war, your father can tell you that. “  
“Your mama is right Rickon.” Ned nodded. Bran hoped that that would be the end of it, but of course he was disappointed.  
Arya scoffed. “Why shouldn’t Rick want to go to war? It’s noble, to fight for your country. At least he gets the chance to.” Of course, this lead to Sansa and Catelyn’s disapproval, and further disagreement. This was of course a ridiculous conversation to be having. With Jon already off to join the army, and Robb seeking education at Cambridge, none of the Starks at Winterfell manor would have been ‘valued’ in war. Women, a child and a boy who couldn’t walk. 

Bran felt immense relief when dinner was finished and he could go upstairs to his room. There he could read, and write, he could do whatever he wished without his family’s approval or knowing, but tonight he knew he needed to be with Jojen. Bran heard the click of the door handle, and saw a golden head appear. The Reed boy shut the door behind him and asked “What do you need Master Bran?” with a smile that made butterflies swirl in Brans stomach.  
“Today has worn my mind out, but yet I cannot sleep without continuing my novel. I thought… I thought that perhaps you could read it to me now.” And so Jojen did do as Bran requested. It was true, to some extent, that he was enraptured in his novel, but Jojen’s presence distracted him, and soon he could think of nothing but the blonde boy’s honey voice, or how the candlelight flickered on his face, illuminating his soft features. 

Caught up in the sight of his most beloved friend, Bran unknowingly sighed. This caused Jojen to glance up at him, his green eyes meeting Bran’s chocolate ones. There was an immediate feeling of warmth between them. He wanted desperately to lean in, to seal that warmth with touch, but before he could Jojen leaned back. He glanced at the floor before looking back to bran. “You are too tired, Master Bran. Perhaps I should go, and we can continue tomorrow night” Jojen spoke in a soft voice.  
Bran swallowed. “It seems I am. Alright Jojen. Then I bid you Goodnight.” Jojen hoisted Bran up as best he could and helped him onto his bed. Silence clouded the air around them. They only made eye contact again when Jojen placed the book on the bedside table beside them. Bran could sense confusion, though he was unsure if it was good or bad. Why had it happened? He had looked into Jojen’s eyes countless times but never before had he been so tempted to kiss him, to touch him, to be in his arms, yet never before had he desired so much to comb his fingers through the strawberry blond curls. What was different? Something must have changed. The candle flickered to and fro, before suddenly going out. 

That night, the Reed boy filled Bran’s dreams. 

Beige, gold and green tones swirled on the inside of Bran’s eyelids, enveloping his mind. All he could think of was Jojen, his slightly parted lips, the softness of his reddened cheek, the occasional glances the boys shared. His mind thought back to when Jojen had grazed his knuckles on Bran’s neck earlier in the day. The slight tease of skin against skin invited Bran into the memory once more, and he could almost feel the sensations. Something was different this time. Jojen’s face was clearly in front of his, watching his own knuckles brush so softly on Bran’s half-open lips. Bran stood still, not hearing anything other than their breath, until he pressed his lips to the image of the Reed boy. His own lips upon Jojen’s, softly touching at first, then pressing down harder, until eventually due to the friction, both of the boy’s lips were moving. They were moving against each other with such a perfect rhythm, it sent shivers down Bran’s spine. Bran felt overwhelming guilt at this altered memory. He wanted to stop it, but naturally he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, and the warmth of youth and lust continued to spread through his body. 

The next day Bran could barely bring himself to look at his friend, knowing what had occurred the night before. What he had thought, wished, seen… well, he felt like the tragic heroine of a gothic novel, reddened face and averted eyes. On the other hand, Jojen seemed perfectly, utterly normal. Why wouldn’t he be, considering that nothing particularly abnormal had occurred for him the night before? Or at least, this is what Bran thought. 

What Bran knew not, was that he and Jojen shared more than secrets, and conversations, and jests. The two boys were ultimately more connected than either realised. Whilst Bran awkwardly assumed he alone had imagined his lips on those of his very closest companion, the truth was that Jojen had too. Jojen had seen everything from the other perspective. He also felt his breath leave his body when they accidentally touched. He too felt immensely guilty at feeling the way he did for his friend, for his master. But perhaps he was more determined than his counterpart to suppress these feelings.  
“You know, you seemed awfully distracted last night” Jojen stated as he led Bran towards the woods at the back of the familiar manor.  
Bran glanced at Jojen. “I suppose I was.” He breathed, before continuing hastily “-you know, with the war and everything going on I- my thoughts were elsewhere”. He received no reply.  
Once they reached a pleasant enough spot, Jojen helped Bran to get comfortable before he himself did, so that the pair could read in the comfort of nature. They did this until bran had gotten completely lost in his novel. A sudden noise jolted him to the present: a snore. Jojen had fallen asleep. He propped himself up on his elbows, and looked to where the Reed boy lay. Jojen was laying on his side not a few metres from Bran, his book fallen from his hand. His lips were ever so slightly parted, just allowing soft noises to escape. The sight made Bran smile in a way that he could not suppress. Hesitantly, he used his arms to pull himself to where his friend lay, abandoning his novel altogether.  
Their faces rested just centimetres apart, and soon Bran was being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of Jojen’s breath, in sync with his own. This was however interrupted by the sudden appearance of a pair of green eyes, opened wide and staring right into Bran’s own. Jojen said nothing, but his breathing had increased in speed. It was at this moment that Bran made the decision to close the gap between them. Their lips met, and for a moment Jojen seemed to be paralysed. Bran panicked. Had he been mistaken, had he misread the situation? These worries were swept away when the boy opposite him closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. The boys moved their lips against eachother, soft and full. Bran felt Jojen’s hand run through the back of his hair, and he quickly returned the gesture. When he had a firm hold in the blonde curls he pulled Jojen closer towards him roughly. As he did this, he felt Jojen’s tongue swipe across his lips, and he let it in his mouth. Jojen’s mouth tasted of the raspberries they had eaten at breakfast, and of the wine they had snuck in after it. 

Jojen took the opportunity provided by Bran’s desperation to change positions, straddling the dark-haired boy underneath him. Bran whined at the loss of contact at their mouths, though a string of saliva still remained between them. Jojen pinned Bran’s arms on either side of his head, and began kissing along his jaw. Bran gasped at this, a soft, high-pitched noise of desire, driving Jojen wild. Jojen moved down from Bran’s face to his chest, while bran managed to free his wrists from Jojen’s grasp, using them instead to grasp at the reed boy’s hair. Jojen in the meantime had untied his companion’s cravat, leaving his milky, unmarked neck exposed to the air. The two made eye contact, and Bran’s pupils were blown out and watery. Jojen switched his attention back to the skin below him, and began sucking softly on Bran’s Adams apple. He moaned and squirmed (as much as he could) underneath the golden haired boy. Jojen felt Bran’s need jut into his hip. A dark mark had formed on Bran’s neck due to his efforts, and the boy beneath him was breathing shakily. He moved up to kiss him once more. Noses brushed against eachother as they did this, seeming to fit together purposely. Ah Bran thought so this is what we were made for. 

Though the light linen shirts didn’t provide much of a barrier, but Jojen wanted access underneath. Rather than spend time carefully removing Bran’s shirt, wasting precious contact, he pushed it up over his chest. He kissed the dark-haired boy’s sternum, down his stomach, till he reached the edge of Bran’s trousers. He stopped and looked up at Bran. “Bran I-” he tried, hating how wrecked his voice sounded. Bran panted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at the blonde. Rather than saying anything, he pulled his lover to him so that they could kiss, tasting the fruity wine once more. “Do you want this?” Jojen managed. Bran nodded vigorously, stroking Jojen’s cheek. He continued: “Only if you’re sure”  
Bran laughed before replying. “Please Jojen, have no doubt. I want this more than you could imagine.” With that, Jojen unbuttoned the front of his friend’s trousers and began to touch him. With his inexperience, he was entirely basing this off of Bran’s reaction, letting noises and body language guide him. The darker boy’s panting grew faster and louder and faster and louder, until he made a choked noise. With a strangled cry he called out Jojen’s name, dragging his nails across his lover’s back, scratching the skin through his shirt. It was painful, but it felt good at the same time, to hear Bran gasp and scream his name. He collapsed beside Bran, and they listened to each other pant. After a few moments, Bran rolled to his side and whispered in Jojen’s ear “shall I return the favour” Jojen smiled and nodded, and so that is what he did. 

After all was said and done, Bran lay shirtless and wrecked in Jojen’s arms, fast asleep and lightly speckled by sunrays, surrounded by reeds. He chuckled at the accidental meaning. But to be entirely true, he was content the way he was. The two boys lay with hands entwined and hearts tangled, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
